


12 Days of Not-Quite-Christmas

by little mouse (lcwilkie)



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: Character Death, Early Relationship, F/M, Miscarriage, Pre-Cannon, Short, breifly menitoned but still, just an oc but thought i'd tag it anyways, loosely song fics?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcwilkie/pseuds/little%20mouse
Summary: Since we are twelve days away from the release of the Artemis Fowl movie, and there are twelve days in the song Twelve Days of Christmas (who'd have thunk?), wouldn't it be fun to have a fic around that concept? I wasn't originally planning on having this be about Angeline and Artemis Fowl I, but it seemed kind of fun, so here we are.
Relationships: Angeline Fowl/Artemis Fowl I
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. A Partridge in a Pear Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Well! Since I want to get this fic posted tonight, and it's already about 2 hours past my bedtime, there is next to no editing here in chapter one. there likely wont be in other chapters either. but, oh well. mostly a fun project for me cause it amuses me, and any glaring errors i can fix as i reread and find them.  
> Hoping to get one chapter posted a day!

“You alright there, Tim?” Sean asked, after the fourth time Artemis Fowl gave a vague response to the conversation. Not only was it in terribly bad form for someone with his breeding, but it was also very much _not_ like him to have his attention wander when engaged in low-level shop talk.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m doing fine,” Artemis replied, flashing his teeth in a smile. “I’d be better, though, if I could get an introduction to that lady over there, though,” he continued, motioning with his champagne glass to the little knot of women near the patio doors.

“Who? The brunette in the green, the blonde with the killer legs, or the blonde in the Cinderella dress? You know Maggie, already, of course.”

“Cinderella dress? Jesus, Sean, what kind of description is that? Since your Maddy was born, it’s princess this and princess that. Just buy her a pony and a ticket to whatever the Spanish royalty’s newest baby’s birthday is, and she’ll be content. But yes, that one.”

“For someone who’s so disdainful of princesses, you sure knew what I meant” Sean continued with a smirk, earning some chortles and good natures cheers from the rest of the men around them.

“Oh, shut up. Process of elimination, that’s all. And it’s a classic, and I’m Irish. Of course I know fairy tales. Disney made them too tame, that’s all. Anyways, who is she?”

“Oh, please won’t you tell me who is she!” sang Kevin, the breeder of the horses the cohort of men were arranging to win a series of races at astronomical odds. He grinned, and drank from his own glass of champagne, when Tim shot him a look.

“Alright, lads, give the man a break. Her name’s Angeline Sullivan, some sort of school friend of Maggie’s. Apparently they spent considerable time boarding together in Austria, lots of skiing and good-for-the-earth volunteering.”

“Ah, Maggie’s always been a sucker for that stuff. Hey, do you think you can get me a seat near at dinner?”

“You’re joking, right? I’m only here cause Pa threatened to cut Maggie’s inheritance if all the Byrne’s weren’t together at Christmas. She tattled to Daddy first thing when I told the sommelier to stock some 1870’s Dom P last year during this get together; she’d kill me if I messed with her seating arrangements this time,” Sean said, knowing that by “near” his friend meant “immediately beside,” and that his sister had spent literal months pouring over the guest list, table set up, and seating plan.

“Oh, come on, it’s not so hard. Just… I dunno, move someone over a seat or two till they’re all shuffled down and I can be shuffled into the spot beside her. Do me a solid here, mate.” Again, Artemis flashed a smile that had charmed many a decent – and not-so-decent – man into questionable decisions.

“Tim…”

Artemis raised an eyebrow, and the grin changed slightly. No change in the amount of teeth showing, or the shape of the lips, but it suddenly became much less of a smile between friends and much more of a bared teeth of a tiger ready to strike.

Sean sighed. Artemis was unquestionably a loyal friend, and a damn good charmer, and from one of the biggest families in Ireland. If all that wasn’t enough to make Sean do as bid, the fact that he was bankrolling their little scheme and _would_ step out if it was no longer profitable for him, including in networking, definitely was. “I’ll get Anders to arrange something for Hennesey; he’s the man Mags selected as dining partner for her. You’ll have maybe ten minutes to get the seat and convince Angeline to let you keep it. Then, Hennesey’s staff’ll have him set up again to be presentable company.”

“Top! Thanks, mate!”

* * *

Angeline looked up at the man sliding into the seat beside her, and offered a sincere smile, and upraised hand.

“Mr. Hennesey, I presume. Lovely to meet you. Though Margaret said you had brown hair, I’ll need to mention that next time she teases me about that seafoam dress I wore to the gala in Sicily. She swears it was teal. Thoughts on the comparison?”

“Ah, well, unfortunately, Miss Sullivan, you won’t be able to use me as a counter-attack,” Artemis began, clasping Angeline’s outstretched hand, “and I know far better than to argue with a woman about colour, and with a beautiful woman about anything. My name is Artemis Fowl, and I arranged to steal this seat because I wanted to meet you. Though I’m told I only have about ten minutes to charm you into letting me stay as your dinner companion. Thoughts on the prospect?” Matching her joking tone, he pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers, but didn’t let go of her hand.

Angeline leaned back. Slightly shocked at the forwardness of his answer, she nevertheless found it highly amusing. She did pull her hand away, though. No point letting him get _to_ confident.

“Well! You’re off to a good start there, Mr. Fowl. Though if you’re not willing to argue with me, whatever will we talk about? Good discussions always have counter opinions being argued, though not necessarily with heat.”

“I suppose I could flatter you more, and play the Don Juan, and tell you that being near such radiant beauty makes me feel heated and flushed with nerves, but I’m told you’re more of a skier, and therefore enjoy cooler temperatures. Hence, I presume, the silver dress? Flatters your complexion, and those lovely diamonds on your wrist.”

“Yes, a present from my grandfather,” Angeline said, smiling, and looking at the bracelet in question. “He passed a few years ago, and they were the last Christmas gift he ever gave me. I try and wear them at least once a year during the season, and fashion be damned about out of style jewelry or not re-wearing the same thing as last year.”

“Wise.” Artemis said, drinking from his champagne. Why let things sit in storage? If you have it and enjoy it, then showcase it proudly.”

Angeline looked at him thoughtfully. “You seem like a very proud man, Mr. Fowl.”

“Among other vices, yes. Greed, occasional envy, but mostly pride. I tend to get the things I want, so no point pining after them, is there?”

“And if I told you I do not wish to have you as my dining companion? Would you pine for me?”

“Now that’s a trick question. If I say no, then I’m a cad, who’ll flatter a woman and leave her hanging. If I say yes, then I’m a desperate man with no skills other than over flattery. Besides, all I said at the beginning of this was that I wanted to meet you. I think we can say that I’ve accomplished that,” and he grinned again, lighthearted and foolish, and slightly tipsy. He had always enjoyed these games. More so with people intelligent enough to keep up with him.

Buying time, Angeline sipped her own champagne. He was certainly charming, and hardly hard to look at, with that stunning black hair and deep blue eyes. And his last comment hadn’t sounded resentful, or pushy. She got the sense that if she said no, she would rather have this elusive Elwin Hennesey as her dining companion, Mr. Artemis Fowl wouldn’t take it amiss. He’d have some gracious parting comment, take his leave, and the no doubt spend the rest of the evening finding – or making – casual opportunities to run into her.

Noting with considerable amusement that her dear friend Maggie was currently being talked at by her brother, as she never listened well when stressed, while angled towards the table occupied by Angeline and Artemis, with the four other guests around the circular white table cloth, Angeline made up her mind. Sending a brilliant smile towards her friend, and giving a slight shake of the head and shrug of the shoulders, she let Maggie know she was fine with the new arrangement and Hennesey be damned. It was all well and good to try and set friends up, but much more fun to have charming men seek you out on their own.

She turned back to this Mr. Fowl to let him know he could stay when he beat her to it, by saying very lowly “You’re very good at that. Graceful, and not at all shy about your decision, but still letting her know you’re a bit regretful for the stress caused. All without saying a word. Marvelous display.”

“And you are very good at flattery, Mr. Fowl,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “How many women do you practice on?”

“Fewer than you’d think. It’s hard, when they all flit about and titter around like dragonflies.” He replied, leaning back to allow the waitstaff to put the dish in front of him on the tabletop. “Ah, partridges in pear sauce! How lovely. Love that song. Very Christmas classic.”

“Do you enjoy the classics, Mr. Fowl?” Angeline asked, taking a decorously small bite of the partridge on her plate.

Glancing sideways at her, Artemis flashed another smile. “Depends on the classics. Sean, my friend, who helped arrange this, described your gown as a Cinderella dress. Now, Disney movies are all well and good, and some do certainly have the right to be called classics, but I prefer the original Grimm fairytales. _Those_ are good classics.”

“Of course. I would expect nothing less from an Irishman, with the fables of black dogs haunting graveyards, and the fay stealing children, and howling banshees foretelling the death of those who hear them. And there is what we can talk about; the differences between my beloved Disney Princess films and your classic Grimm's Fairy Tales.”

Angeline smiled at Artemis, who smiled back. Each sensed a similar humour in the other, and intelligence, and attractiveness. This would be a fun evening.


	2. Two Turtle Doves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so i took some creative license here with the layout of the grounds. and since direct timelines aren't ever mentioned in the book series (except Butler was apparently working in Russia in the late 80's), i have no idea what the remote cameras were like during Artemis's courtship. but whatever. i also made up a new bodyguard for him, since in The Arctic Incident it's mentioned that The Major was assigned to Artemis Fowl Senior for that trip, as opposed to being his long-time guard, so i've always taken that to mean a temporary set up. But, to each their own. Anyways, here's the chapter!

Marcus Butler, known in professional circle as Buck, carefully flicked between the various camera views showing different parts of the gardens. He’d been _expressly ordered_ not to interfere or be anywhere physically present, but it couldn’t hurt to be too careful. Last time he’d thought a garden was safe he took a knife across the gut and lost half a pinky finger. Granted, that was over half a decade ago, and in a public garden, not within the walls surrounding the Fowl Manor grounds. Nevertheless, with a headstrong charge rising in the ranks of the international underworld as per family tradition, but currently too addled over a pretty girl to think straight, always better to be cautious.

Not that Buck didn’t recognize that Angeline was a very lovely girl. Certainly pretty, and intelligent enough to keep Artemis entertained. Buck couldn’t help but think she was perhaps a bit too kind for a long-term relationship with Artemis, though. His charge was much more interested in ending “corrupt governments and wildly off the rails officials and corporations with more interest in profit than people,” as his lady-love described them, by overthrowing them with force or subterfuge and then taking control of their assets than by do-good works to save the planet. _Aurum est potestas,_ and all that. Still, maybe she’d be a calming influence on the boy. He’d been getting a bit too uppity lately. No failures but dozens of wild successes in half a year would do that to a young man. Now that he was taking over more for the family business after his father’s heart attack last year, he thought he was invincible.

 _Only cause I take all the hits,_ Buck thought, before switching to the view of the camera hidden in the eye of the Cupid statue in the center off the hedge maze, as Artemis and Angeline wandered out of view of the northeastern eave camera.

* * *

The two in question walked slowly around the hedges. Being only chest high, it wasn’t a difficult maze to navigate. But pretending it was made for a good excuse to hold hands so neither got lost.

Angeline had giggled when he’d said that, and wrapped both hands around his arm before smiling up at him. Artemis smiled back. There were few things he loved more than making Angeline laugh. It was always such a delightful sound. Now that the garden was in full bloom, he had a great many opportunities to bring her here and make her laugh. Offering a romantic walk in the rain would do it, as would bringing her a flower fresh picked. Twirling her in the glow of the fairy lights at midnight, watching ducklings in the small pond, offering her a gold coin to throw into the fountain with a wish….anything he could do to make her happy.

And get her alone for a few minutes. Nothing scandalous, but having been watched from the moment of his birth by family and staff was starting to wear. He knew it was necessary; he knew hands down he was making enemies that would also be starting to watch him, which meant the ever watchfulness of his bodyguard was even more important. But it was nice to have five minutes without someone’s eyes on him. Hence, the hedge maze. There was a small bench right behind the Cupid statue where no cameras could see. A security flaw that Buck was always on about, but since it was located in the middle of the grounds and the cameras around the area would catch anyone entering, Artemis wasn’t unduly worried.

Neither was Angeline. Oh, she knew about the Fowl’s, of course. They were notorious for their criminal enterprises, and of course, Maggie had filled her in on some of the details. But Tim was just to _nice_. Not in the way some other men were nice, to get into bed with her, but genuinely kind. He didn’t show it much, but she saw bits of it. Like how he brought her only pink flowers after she’d mentioned it was her favourite colour. Or when he ordered birdseed to feed the ducks with after she’d scolded him for offering them bread. Sure, he might have some concerning tendencies regarding business practices, but he was intelligent and charming and listened when she admonished him, which was a huge step up from other men who’d get insulted.

“I think about you an awful lot. This past week, while you’ve been gone, I wasn’t able to forget about for an hour. You really are something special, you know,” she told him.

“Oh, I know,” he replied lightheartedly, glancing down at her. “But it’s nice to have someone like you say so.”

“Someone like me?”

“Hmm. Someone lovely and kind and special as yourself.”

“Oh, really, now, Tim. Surely you can find other adjectives than the one I used!” she teased.

“Oho, being persnickety about my vocabulary are we? Very well, what’s another way to describe you…without, of course, being cliched, because if I can’t use _your_ words, then I certainly can’t use somebody else’s!”

“I don’t know about that. Clichés are cliché’s for a reason, usually because they work.”

Artemis grinned at her. “In that case, then,” and he swung her into his arms in a closed dance hold before starting to sing “darling, it’s incredible, that someone so unforgettable, thinks that I am unforgettable, too.”

And there was her laugh. Head thrown back, spinning with him in the garden. He laughed to, before pulling her into a kiss on the bench.

Buck smiled a bit to himself before checking the other cameras. He’d been watching the lovers for the entire conversation through the _other_ camera in the Cupid statue, the one Artemis didn’t know about. After a quick scan that his charge and lady were safe, Buck let himself switch to the main pan. No immediate danger. He decided to let the two turtle doves coo at each other in private for a bit. It was a good chance to check the garage; those new sports cars could use a thorough security sweep.


	3. Three French Hens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no idea on timeline here. Though I did do a bit of research! cell phones were a thing since the early 70's, so while they might not have been classy and sleek, it does make sense that a rich criminal family would be able to have one. 
> 
> I really need to get these posted earlier; it's well past my bedtime again. oh well.

It was hardly the first time Angeline had gone on trips to European cities, and hardly the first time a gentleman had taken her. It was almost a necessity for their socio-economic demographic. Court someone for a period of time, then travel. What was the point in having multimillions of dollars, and private aeroplanes, boats, and trains, if you weren’t going to use them?

It was, however, the first time her beau hadn’t wanted to go up the Eiffel Tower while in Paris.

“I’ve been, you’ve been, and thousands of random people planning on going each day. Why waste the time? There are other methods of seeing the city,” Artemis had explained, when she’d asked if she should pack flats to wear to climb the stairs at the top.

It was also the first time her beau had decided to show her the overhead view of Paris via hot-air balloon.

“Oh, Timmy, that was splendid!” She said, settling into her chair. “Thank you,” she directed towards the waiter holding it for her. “I’ve never, ever even thought of doing that! It felt like I could almost touch the clouds!”

Artemis smiled back at her across the table, and reached out to grab her hand. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he told her, before turning to the sommelier who materialized at his elbow, wine list in hand. Word was that prompt, discrete service caused the Fowl man to tip well, and for all that his hulking guard was mighty intimidating, Raphael had an eye on a pair of earrings for his wife, and wasn’t going to pass up the chance to earn some extra money for them. Besides, in a high-class place like this, bodyguards were common, and usually far less of a problem than their drunken, obnoxious charges.

“What do you think, my dear? Red or white if wine, or do we want to go for some champagne?”

“We have a lovely offer on, sir, two half glasses, one of red, one white, if you or the lady would like? Currently offering, for the white –”

Artemis glanced sideways at the sommelier, eyes and voice cold. “I wasn’t asking you.”

The sommelier blinked and opened his mouth to apologize.

“Timmy! Don’t be so rude! Apologies, monsieur. The double glasses sound lovely, doesn’t it, Tim?”

For all that he was a leading man in the criminal underworld, Artemis Fowl was still a man faced with a pretty woman admonishing him in public.

“Of course, that sounds perfect. I apologize also, for my rudeness. We trust our judgement on the specifics of the bottles.”

With a slight bow, the sommelier hurried away to get the glasses. 

After another glance to the side, this time to the three old ladies at the table next to theirs who had huffed at the display, Artemis looked back at Angeline, and smiled sheepishly. “I apologize to you as well. That was uncalled for behaviour. I appreciate you not letting me get away with it; far too many people are too obliging to me.”

Angeline was still a bit miffed. Artemis really could fit all the negative stereotypes of his ilk. “Well, I suppose you did apologize right away. But really, Timmy, do _think_ about your actions, please. You have the ability to be better and make other people’s lives better, don’t use that to make them worse, even in small ways.”

“Of course. Old habits from my family. I do try, Angie, really. You make me want to try. But Father’s personality was a bit…overwhelming, as a child, and not conductive to –” he cut off, as his phone rang. Normally, he didn’t keep his phone on in restaurants. And especially didn’t answer it while at social dinner engagements. But. “Speak of the devil,” Artemis muttered, pulling the device out of his pocket. “I seem to need to apologize again; I really must take this. If the waiter comes, order whatever you wish.”

With that, Artemis stood up and walked away from the table to take the call. Buck followed silently, gently steering Artemis to a shallow alcove where he could have privacy for his call and be reasonably protected from any potential assassin masquerading as a restaurant guest. Reservations were hell. Anyone could find out you were going there, and then what were you to do? Nevertheless, it was still reasonably safe. Even if it left Angeline alone at the table.

Or reasonably alone. One of the old ladies leaned over to her companions, and very clearly stage whispered her opinions on the idea of a man acting in such a way around a lady, being rude to others and then _abandoning her at the table during dinner_. Angeline simply pretended not to notice. She had spent far too many years having people whisper about her behind her back to take notice of it now. especially since these whispers were far more tame than those that circulated around the volunteer’s tent in Kenya a few years ago.

Still though. After Artemis had been gone for nearly ten minutes, and Angeline had ordered appetizers for both of them, she was starting to agree with the not-so-hushed discussion nearby. Timmy was very sweet when he wanted to be, but his father was still very much the man of the house – and empire – and expected certain things from those he deemed to be inferior to him, which seemed to be nearly everyone.

Artemis did return, though. And immediately shot another look at the table of elderly women, now just being served their desserts, but very clearly being nuisances to his dining companion. The phone call with his father had left him irritated. Once he sat down at his place again, Angeline picked up her knife and fork to get started on her appetizer. It had been sitting on the table for a no few minutes now, and was already slightly cold. She was well on the way to losing her amusement with the day. Artemis sensed the change in attitude.

“I could apologize again, but I don’t think it would help,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, and elbow on the table. The action caused another scandalized huff from beside them.

A quick decision was made, and he flashed a grin at Angeline. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”

She looked up from her plate, another dainty mouthful on her fork. “Somewhere else? Where?”

“No idea. We’ll find a café or a bistro or something somewhere. It’s Paris in July; it shouldn’t be too hard to find a place to eat. Hell, let’s live dangerously and grab some fast food. Come on,” he repeated. Artemis stood up, and reached for his jacket.

“Are you alright?” Angeline asked, concerned. She’d seen his scowl when he got back.

“Well, Father is might irritated about the Chandler deal and how I ‘splurged on showboating without sufficient return,’ as he put it, and my lovely date is being harassed by some French hens arguing about proper behaviour for the statused so if everyone wants to complain about how I am not handling my wealth or time well, then might as well give them a legitimate reason to.” By this point, Artemis had gotten Angeline up from her own chair, and bundled into her stole. “We’ll leave a nice tip for the staff for the quick exit, and find something more casual. Sound like a plan?”

“I suppose, but, the wine…”

“Good point.” Artemis grabbed his glass and handed Angeline her own. “Cheers, to a lovely day full of wealth, and a lovely evening of fun!”

He waited, glass extended to hers, until she sighed, relaxed, shook her head, and toasted back. A quick sip, some cash left on the table, and Artemis wrapped an arm around Angeline’s shoulders to lead her out into the Paris night.


	4. Four Calling Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this one was kind of hard to write? Cause like...wtf is a calling bird. apparently, old school term for blackbird, so more research into irish mythology around blackbirds, and here we are!  
> also not posting at bloody midnight, so that's an improvement.

Angeline was not superstitious. She wasn’t. Not in the slightest. So she wasn’t at all worried about the large black dog she’d seen wandering around the docks earlier in the day. Or the blackbirds currently on the fence outside her home. Two blackbirds were good to see, right? One for sorrow, two for joy, and all that? Or were those magpies? Nevertheless, the was absolutely no reason whatsoever to worry about Timmy not having returned from his business trip yet.

Even if he _was_ supposed to be back in Ireland a day and a half ago. Perhaps there were flight delays. America was on the other side of the world. It wasn’t unreasonable to have some delays in travel come up, and if you were already looking at nearly a full day on planes in good conditions, then a handful of late planes could easily extend the duration. It wasn’t anything at all to do with the fact that he was traveling to meet a mobster currently at risk of raids from various legal and paramilitary organizations at any moment.

Still, she found herself jumping whenever the phone or doorbell rang. It was unseemly to rush to either like a teenager preparing for her first date, but after the fourth caller in an hour asking for her presence at a charity ball or would she be so kind as to donate to their fund, she had had enough.

“Maude! I’m going for a walk!” she called out, already putting on her jacket. Autumn on the estate could be chilly, and the grey clouds weren’t helping. Low and ominous, they threatened rain, so Angeline grabbed her umbrella from the stand as well. Maybe a good rainstorm would help. Wash away the stress, etc. Or at least be very dramatic and match her depressive mood.

“Walking? To where? Shall I have Nelson bring the car around, if you’ve a fancy to walk around Dublin?” the housekeeper asked, bustling over, as always the picture of efficiency.

“Not sure. Just…around. Probably just around the garden; I’ve no interest in shopping today. I just need to get out of the house, stretch my legs a bit. I should be back in an hour, if you could have some tea ready?”

“Of course, ma’am,” but Angeline was already gone, striding off across the lawns. Maude shook her head and went back inside. Young love was all very well, but it wasn’t about to order the vases for the dinner party next month, now was it?

Angeline moved at a steady pace. No point dawdling when she wanted to burn off some restless energy. She tried not to think of Timmy, though couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Buck had been much more tense than usual last time she had seen the two of them, and much more cautious about them going out. Dinner out had turned into candlelight by the fire, but it was hard to relax and enjoy the evening when two people were aware it was the last they’d have together for a while, and one party had a rather large shadow obsessively checking the windows every fifteen minutes.

“Augh,” Angeline said, disgusted with herself. Artemis would be fine. He knew what he was doing, and he had one of the best bodyguards in the business to protect him if anything did go wrong. She swept her hair back with one hand, and spun around to look over her family’s lands. Relatively small, but the Sullivan’s had always invested more in owning other real estate to rent out than in large tracts of the land for themselves. Still, it was a handsome property, with the tall stone house and wide hedges, rolling hills and some livestock.

With a deep sigh, she sat down on a hilltop and wrapped her arms around her knees. The clouds were still low, but no longer looked quite so much like rain. With a bit of a laugh at herself and her mental state, she started singing: “Oh I’m just a little black rain cloud, hovering under the honey-tree!” Worry or not, things would happen as they did. With another sigh, she rested her cheek on her knees and closed her eyes, feeling the cold breeze blow her untied hair around and the damp grass slowly seep into her pants.

She didn’t know how long she sat for. She was aware of time passing. Maude would, with all her usual efficiency, have a cup of tea, and probably some sandwiches, ready for an hour from when Angeline left, so she’d best wander back around then. Maude had no qualms about scolding her mistress for letting good tea go cold. So, after a while, she stood up, dusted herself off, and wandered back down to the house. Maybe she’d be able to focus on the planning of that dinner party now. She’d been putting off the music choice for a while now. A couple days, to be honest. The same length of time Timmy had been overdue to return….she’d been planning on asking for his opinion, but what if she couldn’t ever do so again? What if something _had_ happened? What if…. _what if a turtle started tap-dancing?_ She reprimanded herself. Hypothetical scenarios were hardly something to dwell on.

With that more positive outlook, if it was a little forced, Angeline walked back in the front door, calling out that she’d returned and would Maude like some help with the dinner party planning?

“That would be lovely, ma’am, but perhaps in a bit. You have a guest in the parlor,” Maude said, stepping out from the main hall. “Your tea is waiting; I’ll bring some sandwiches.”

Angeline laughed. At least she knew Maude. And she knew better than to get her hopes up about who the guest would be. Artemis was not one to drop in without calling ahead.

So she was extremely surprised when she walked into the parlour and saw him standing near the fireplace, mug of tea in his own hand.

“Angie,” he said, putting the cup down and walking towards her with open arms.

“Timmy! Oh, Artemis, you’re back!”

It took some time for him to answer, what with her flying into his arms and kissing him soundly. “Yes, and I’m truly sorry for the delay. Buck got…eh…a bit injured, on our trip, which required some medical care and a delay in transport home.”

Angeline, still tucked into Artemis’s arms, looked over and saw Buck standing off to the side, one arm in a casual sling. “Oh! Are you alright? And you, Timmy, are you hurt?”

“He assures me he’s fine,” Artemis replied, “And I myself am perfectly healthy, if a bit jet-lagged, and missing you.”

At this point, Maude walked into the parlour with a small tray of sandwiches. Her experienced eye saw her employer in the arms of a man gently cupping her cheek, both gazing at each other with adoration, and another, rather large man in the corner, clearly wondering what to do with himself in the small room.

“Well!” she started. “Mr. Butler, is it? Why don’t you head into the kitchen and rest in there? I’ll make you a cuppa, after I bring these sandwiches upstairs, and we can let these two have a bit more of a reunion, hmm?”

Angeline laughed again, and rested her head on Artemis’s shoulder. Buck looked at his charge, and took the escape offered to him, following the housekeeper out of the parlor.

“Did you know, my dear, that I saw two pairs of blackbirds nesting in your hedge?” Artemis asked, holding Angeline’s hand as they walked out of the parlour. “Apparently, that means good luck!”


	5. Five Golden Rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, posting past midnight....but it's Friday, so I don't need the sleep.   
> This one...should be pretty obvious what it's about.

“I do quite like the that one,” Artemis began, point to the farthest right item on the table, “but it might be a bit much for her taste…”

“A bit much? Tim, you’re a billionaire. Not only can you afford things that are “a bit much,” but no one can judge you for it. “

“ _Angeline_ can. And would. Besides, wealth comes with consciousness. No need to excessively flaunt your wealth all the time –“

“Yes, cause gold and jade cuff links and a million-dollar watch are the epitome of subdued taste.”

“There’s a difference, Sean.” Artemis said, exasperated. The ring was classic, but had a channel and three ring cathedral, and was rather wide…much more ornamentation than his Angeline usually wore. But the oval cut centerpiece was flattering….

“Make a note, please, John, that I’m leaning towards an oval cathedral,” he directed at the man on his other side.

“Of course, sir,” John Watkins, of Watkins’ Finest: Exclusive Ornaments, Est. 1762, replied. He jotted down the information on his paper, below all the other highlighting stone colour, karat count, gold colour, gold karats, and the other deliberations on diamond cut and setting. Which meant he had to clarify: “And the round tension, sir? Is that still on the table?”

Artemis flicked a glance at the middle ring.

“No,” Sean chimed in, earning an eyebrow from his friend. “Come on, Tim, think about it. Yes, it’s got nice clean, sleek lines, and a choice stone – though _that_ can be changed as needed – and the platinum accent is quite modern, but do you really see her going for sleek modernism?”

“Hmm…no, good point. Take that one off the list, would you John?”

“Of course, sir,” John repeated. Always be polite to the customers. And always follow the Three “E”’s of serving them: always and only the most Exclusive items, Especially for those wealthy enough to be in the know about the company, and Even though it would take, on average, either seventeen seconds to make a sale or at least three weeks. Messrs. Fowl and Byrne were on their third appointment. It had been two hours. The past two had been three-quarters of an hour and two and a half.

Still, if Mr. Fowl wished to drop several million pounds on a custom engagement ring, Watkins’ Finest was more than happy to accept that payment. Now it was just determining the specifics. The five golden rings – now lowered to four – carefully placed on the navy tablecloth were the result of several days of research and work on the part of John’s staff. It was not easy to narrow down what the man wanted when he himself didn’t know.

But that was why John was in business. Help steer the client, without being overbearing, and make the sale. So, while Mr. Fowl was staring at the remaining rings, John offered “If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, if you are still interested in the channel setting, we do have several toned diamonds. Lead from one colour to the clear in the centre. Pink is popular with the rose gold. Or you could do the same with the flower design, petals of a different colour.”

“I just don’t know about the rose gold,” Artemis said.

He scowled at the rings and shifted in his chair to handle each again, imaging it on Angeline’s hand. She went for classic styles, and would want something that _meant_ something moreso than what was fashionable or expensive….her diamond bracelet at the Christmas party they’d met at had shown that. And wasn’t that an interesting thought?

“Hey, John? What about a…actually, just pass me a pencil, would you?”

Wordlessly, John handed Mr. Fowl the requested pencil and a sheet of paper. Artemis closed his eyes in concentration and lightly sketched out a design. He glanced up once or twice at the rings on the table, and added some details.

“Is that possible?” he asked, sliding the drawing over. Sean craned around to look at the design.

John took the time to study it with careful scrutiny. Watkins policy was you started at the bottom and learned how to draft designs, then craft them, before you could manage the stock or store.

“It is, yes. It would take some time to craft; the intricacy of the lines would require a near perfect match in stone size. And of course, the central stone would need to be structurally sound enough to hold the others…”

“I have every confidence in your ability to fulfill this request,” Artemis said, standing up and reaching for his coat.

 _And there’s the seventeen seconds,_ John thought, standing himself. “I’ll begin sourcing the stones this afternoon, then sir.” _And what a pain that will be. Thirty diamonds set in a Celtic love knot **inside** another diamond…. _“and we are going with two different colour stones, correct?”

“No, I think all clear. Nothing too flashy from a distance.”

“Of course. I’ll contact you with a quote once I’ve found the stones.”

“Skip the quote. That’s what I want. Send me the invoice when it’s done. Preferably in the next three weeks?”

John nodded. _Remember the E’s._

“Marvelous! Thank you very much for all your help; I look forward to hearing from you.”

And wit that, Artemis strode away, bodyguard already behind his shoulder, Sean a few steps after. Now that _that_ part of the stressful adventure was over, he could turn more of his focus to the actual planning of the method of proposal…


	6. Six Geese a-Laying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand another late night post. this chapter is considerably shorter, cause i'm tired and had less of a solid idea for it, but oh well.

Angeline paused in the organization of the paint ships to take a sip of ginger ale. She had never much cared for carbonation, but the ginger did help settle her stomach.

She was looking forward to the first ultrasound next month. She was only five weeks along, so said the stick, so it was still a ways away. But it was with the best obstetrician in the county. Hopefully Timmy would be able to make it, and wouldn’t forget and work late, “to catch up on what he missed while away.”

And, of course, that made perfect sense. A three-week cruise around the Mediterranean was a very long time to be away from work. Though he had checked his emails and had his assistant send him anything that couldn’t wait. Still, though, preparing for their first child should take precedence, even if they hadn’t yet passed the first trimester checkpoint for health.

Angeline did know that it was far too early in the pregnancy to consider wall colour or decorations for the nursery. Anything could go wrong. Which was part of the concern, of course. For each of her pregnancies, her own mother had been practically bedridden at twenty weeks, if not earlier, under strict doctor’s orders to rest easy and often. With the various nannies and nursemaids, Angeline hadn’t been left alone, even with her father away most of the time. Still, though, with all the best care and intentions, of five pregnancies, only Angeline and Matthew had made it into the world, and Matthew had died in the NICU at the age of six days.

But Angeline was a firm believer in thinking positive. And in planning for the outcomes you wanted, which meant organizing the nursery. At least she didn’t need to pick a name. Timmy was certainly set on carrying on the name of Artemis, either for a son or daughter. Though we has clearly hoping for a son.

Either way, the cheerful yellow would probably be nice for the walls, with some nice light green accents…nothing to harsh. The furniture was set; the chest of drawers, crib, rocker, and change table were all sturdy wood from several generations of Fowls, which would more than suffice. And the darkness of the wood would be countered nicely with the yellow….yes, definitely the yellow walls.

Humming a nursery rhyme, she moved on to fabric swatches to decide on the curtains.


	7. Seven Swans A Swimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this one got hella long, and if i ever feel motivated to rewrite or revise this fic, will def do major edits in here. i feel like i could do much better, but life has decided to Be A Pain this week, so am not going to fuss and fret over it too much right now.   
> anyways, super long chapter below!

“You. Did. _What?_ ” Angeline hissed, rising up onto her elbows. 

“Arranged a meeting? With Amhan, the sheik? Really, darling, we’ve gone over this,” Artemis said, walking to the bedside and taking his wife’s hand. “It’s a business meeting and you don’t care for the dealings of my business, so all I can tell you is that I’m having the meet-“

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about what it’s for, Artemis!” Angeline snapped. “You’ve set this meeting for _three days from now?_ In Saudi Arabia? Do you have any idea how long it will take you to get there, and then get back, let alone have your precious meeting?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Artemis responded, rather testily himself. “As are you, since I just told you I’m leaving in the morning. I admit, three days is rather short notice, and I will need to have some strong words with Amhan about that…my time is not to be wasted, nor demanded on.”

“Not even by your _bedridden wife_ , apparently!”

Artemis looked at Angeline, who’d pulled her hand back and was bracing both against the bed as she sat up, trembling a little with the strain. Pale for the past two days, she was now flushed with anger.

“Angie, really. You should rest. The doctor said—”

“I know what the doctor said! I was _here when he said it_ , which is more than I can say for you!”

“Angeline, I do not appreciate the interruptions,” Artemis scolded. “Yes, I was away, I was handling a mater of some urgency regarding the Kaslow matter –“

“More urgent than your wife miscarrying your child?”

Artemis’s eyes hardened, and his scowl deepened. “Do not use that against me. That loss cut me deep, as well, Angeline. But I cannot focus on it. I _cannot._ ”

Angeline softened. Four weeks before the end of the first trimester, she’d woken with sever cramping. Doctors and an ambulance had been called. There was nothing to do; the baby hadn’t settled properly. Some medical assistance to deal with the results on her body was needed, but there wasn’t enough of a baby to call it that. Just a little bundle of cells that couldn’t even be named.

Of course it was hard on Artemis. His first child, after losing his father not even half a year before, also gone. “Timmy, I’m sorry. I know it’s hard, but not dealing with the emotions isn’t healthy. We can –”

“It’s not that, Angeline,” Artemis said. He kept one hand resting on his leg, and reached up to massage his temples with the other. “These deals, for Kaslow, and with Amhan…they’ll make the Fowls great, do service to my father, my lineage. My children.” Reaching out for his wife’s hand, it was now Angeline’s turn to have cold eyes.

“I see. The Fowl bloodline. Over these past few months, Artemis, you seem to have cared less for me as your partner and more for me as a suitable broodmare to carry on your genetics!” Angeline ended on a sob.

Artemis sighed. “You’re distraught, my love. I love you very deeply as you are. But I also care for my family, and all we’ve built. I’m trying to find a balance here. Which means, sometimes, I need to make some unpopular decisions. Get some rest, sweetheart. You’re distraught. I’ll be home in a week, ten days maximum if things go wrong.” He leant to kiss his wife’s forehead before standing. “I’ll send the maid in with some water and something to eat.”

With that, he turned and left the room, and left his wife alone to curl up under the covers and cry herself to sleep again.

* * *

It was two days later. Artemis had left without another word, but he’d had flowers sent with a tasteful card explaining he was sorry for upsetting her, and he’d like to make it up to her, but it was a tight timetable and he didn’t want to wake her so he had to run. They’d schedule dinner when he got back.

The only reason Angeline didn’t have the flowers turned into compost was because it wasn’t their fault her husband was a prize ass.

She knew she should be resting, not restlessly pacing the hallways, frightening the staff. But Jesus, _Jesus_ , what kind of man cared so little for his immediate family? He had, in fact, missed the first ultrasound. He had dismissed the nursery choices and stroller selection with a casual “whatever you think is best, darling,” before rushing to another endless meeting. He had asked her not to attend some dinners with “clients” as he didn’t think having her excuse herself to the bathroom for an upset stomach was the image he wanted to project. And now this. A miscarriage, and not a thought of how it was affecting his wife, or a thought to give her comfort, or grieve together.

And all from the past two months! It had been increasing since his father’s stroke…less concern for her, more for the “family business.” She had thought, naively perhaps, that it was a phase, and once he had his father’s affairs in order, he’d come back to her. But it had been nearly eight months now of an increasingly distant husband. Who had offered to _schedule_ dinner with her. You didn’t schedule dinner with your wife like she was a business client!

Although that was clearly where his priorities were now. With the businesses, and all their illegal activities. Angeline hated it. He was originally so charming, always making jokes. Now…now it was all about “the business.”

Angeline had no interest in being part of “the business” and had not, in fact, married “the business.” If Artemis thought she would accept being shoehorned into the role of backwater trophy wife, with a spending allowance and no contact with her husband other than _scheduled dinners_ , the man had another think coming.

Whirling, she summoned the maid, and began dictating lists of what had to be done before she left the next day. Timmy could leave at a moments notice with barely a word about it, so could she.

* * *

Artemis was exhausted. Jet lag, negotiations, constant travel, and the stress of being in a room with one business partner and half a dozen of his security guards with only one guard of your own was not good for the mental stamina. Plus, the worry about that last conversation wit Angeline and what had caused it, and she hadn’t returned his calls…She was likely still miffed about the time at which he’d left. That was what he loved about her though. She was strong, and wouldn’t take things lying down. Which, of course, was why he felt that he could leave. She’d recover, and they’d talk things out, and try again for a baby.

Buck glanced in the rearview. “Sir? Everything alright?”

“Hmm?” Yes, fine, just thinking some things through.”

“Of course,” Buck said, pulling up in front of the manor entrance and stepping out to get the car door for Artemis. “In you go, sir, while I park the car.”

“Yes, thank you,” Artemis replied distractedly.

But when he walked in the front door, he paused. Something was wrong. Not sure what yet, he slowly walked through the foyer, feeling more apprehensive with each step. Nothing seemed out of place or missing, nothing new seemed to be added. No blinking lights in corners, no smell of poisons….no smell. Angeline always wore perfume. Why couldn’t he smell her perfume?

Walking to the intercom panel on the wall, he summoned Maude, the housekeeper Angeline had insisted she bring with her. There was no response. He tried again. By this time, Buck had returned. He also sensed something amiss, and pause, sniffing the air.

A maid walked out of the hallway leading to the cleaning storage.

“Ah, miss?” Artemis cursed himself. Why couldn’t he remember this maids name? Angeline would have known what it was… “Where’s Angeline? Or Maude?”

“They’ve….they’ve left, sir,” the maid told him. It was no secret around the staff, but all had been dreading being the person who had to tell the Master when he returned.

“Left? Left to where?”

“I don’t know sir, they didn’t say. Just packed up and left last Tuesday, took a cab. Milton said he heard them give directions to Dublin Airport,” Saoirse said in a rush. Give the Master all the information at once, and hopefully he wouldn’t ask any more questions and not fire her for delivering the bad news…

“The airport?” Artemis parroted, shocked. A logical part of his brain knew it was entirely possible she had gone to one of the various spas across Europe for some rest and recuperation. An emotional part of his brain knew he had abandoned his wife at a time she was vulnerable, and she was not the kind of person who would accept that.

Hesitantly, Buck asked “Should I bring the bags upstairs?”

A moment passed, wherein Artemis look more lost than Buck could ever remember seeing him. “No, I need to get to the airport. The jet has basic laundry, just bring what we packed. I assume you are in a position to fly it? Did she leave a message?” Artemis turned, asking the first question to his bodyguard and the second to the stunned maid.

“Erm, she left a note? I’ll go fetch it,” she said, hurrying away. When she came back, it was with the card that had been attached to the flowers he had sent.

Saoirse watched the two men turn and leave, the shorter pulling out a phone issuing sharp orders regarding contacting ski resorts to see which his wife was at, cancelling his upcoming appointments, and making arrangements for an immediate secondary pilot and crew for the jet, the taller hefting the luggage again and following with barely an eye roll for the change in plans and lack of time to prepare adequate security.

* * *

Angeline was enjoying the light powder of early February on the ski hill. She knew she couldn’t stay here forever, but refused to go back to either her parent’s home, or stay with Maggie. Sean would inevitably find out and tell Artemis, and if he wanted her back he’d have to put _some_ effort into the matter. Not that she was quite sure she was ready to return yet…Sill, he was supposed to return to Ireland three days ago, give or take for time zones. She estimated that, with his current mindset, it would take him at least another day to realize she was gone and puzzle out where to before he could begin traveling, taking the best part of a day. Then, since this was the second ski hill she had stayed at, both under fake names, it would likely be at least another day or two to actually find her. She had time to make a decision.

So she was rather surprised, after finishing the run and taking the lift back to the top of the mountain to try another, to see the unmistakable silhouette of her husband’s bodyguard standing near the information desk, and to hear the sound of her husband’s voice very firmly insisting that no, the search and rescue team did _not_ need to be dispatched, and that if the clerk did not contact his superior for authority to use the hill-wide page system in the next ten seconds, there would be consequences.

She was even more surprised, after gliding up to the small hut, to see Artemis looking spectacularly disheveled. Bags under his eyes, hair sticking up in every direction as though he’d run his fingers through it and not tidied it afterwards, tie askew.

“Timmy?”

He whipped around. “Angie,” he breathed, and reached out to pull her in close and kiss her soundly on the lips. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left, when I got home and realized you were gone, I left came to find you right away—”

“Yes, you shouldn’t have left, and I’m glad I mattered enough for you to come looking for me, but I am still absolutely furious with you. A kiss and apology will not change that.”

“What will?” At his immediate question, and with the look in his eye, Angeline almost gave in, and almost forgave him. Then she remembered how she felt after the miscarriage, and how he’d left. And how that was just the peak of the iceberg of his treatment of her. Stepping out of his embrace, she also remembered that they were likely making a scene, standing on the top of a ski hill surrounded by other travellers, but her anger was a hot coal in her chest and she didn’t care.

“I don’t know.”

He paused. “I understand. Let’s…let’s talk about it on the way home.”

“I don’t want to go home yet,” Angeline said. Though, to be honest, she probably was ready to return. But she refused to go along with his plans without enforcing her own will. She _would not_ be walked up.

Artemis was, once again, stunned. She had been so hard and unyielding. Not like her at all. He knew he’d hurt her, and the loss of her easy affection cut him deep.

“I do not want to go back to Fowl Manor,” Angeline continued, when Artemis just stared at her. “I am not happy, I am emotionally hurt still, from both losing the baby and your actions. I am terrified that you will play happy husband for a little while and then go back to who you were turning into. And you cannot deny that you are a pathological liar and a manipulative man, who, even if you did not mean to do such things, likely would.”

“You promised to love me no matter what, not all that long ago.”

“And you promised to stay by my side for better or worse, in sickness or health, and you did not.”

Artemis looked at Angeline. She stood there, hair wild, strong in body and mind, and felt his heart shatter. How could he have treated her so terribly? He hadn’t even tried calling while he was away. And he knew his actions over the past year had been progressively more dismissive, just anticipating her to be compliant and willing with his plans and behaviours, always expecting her to be there and her usual cheerful self.

“I suppose,” he said hesitantly, “I deserve that. I _know_ I deserve that. And I hope you can forgive me. If that takes time, or, or space away, I understand. And you have it. All the time you need, all the space you need. You also have all the love and loyalty in my heart.” He gently took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers through her ski glove. “Take what you need; you deserve all I can give and more. Call me, or come home, when you’re ready.”

Straightening, he pulled his tie back into order, glanced around to ensure his bodyguard was aware that he was ready to leave, and smiled sadly at his wife. Then turned and walked away.

* * *

He spent the next four days endlessly pacing, not sleeping, barely eating. Surely she’d come home soon? How long would she stay mad? They’d had fights before, obviously. She’d refused to move in with him until after they’d had at least two. But nothing like this.

When he heard her voice at the bottom of the stairs, talking about her holiday to one of the staff, he thought he was hallucinating from exhaustion. It wasn’t until he was standing a the top of the stairs, leaning on the banister, and she looked up at him, with a small, hesitant smile, that he believed she was home.

They met halfway up the stairs. She reached out and cupped his cheek. He put his own hand over top of hers, and leaned into the contact before turning to press a gentle kiss to her palm. They stood like that for a while, until each smiled at the other, and walked up the stairs together, hand-in-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be a bit more clear about the relation of the title here: kind of a play on swans mating for life.


	8. Eight Maids A-Milking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp. once again, kind of off topic of the main chapter heading/ title. but oh well.  
> less than 5 days to the movie!

Angeline bent to kiss the baby’s head while reaching forward to grab the next printout. Artemis sat across from her, reading yet another resume/ reference/ photo sheet. The influx of applications was astonishing. Then again, when one of the richest families in Ireland put out the call for staff, many people jumped at the opportunity.

So now it was up to her and Timmy to sort through the applications for wet nurse, dry nurse and nanny, and find the best fit for darling little Arty. Or one of the best fits. Buck and the new bodyguard, someone who insisted on just being called Butler, would then go through the applications as well and provide their comments…Angeline was tempted to think that overkill, but the life of crime the Fowls lead did have a habit of making enemies, and Angeline would not risk any harm coming to her baby.

The second pregnancy was hard on her, and she was, like her mother, put on early bedrest. Timmy was an absolute dear throughout the process. But nevertheless, even with a doting husband, the doctor had strongly recommended no further children.

So this selection was much more important than just employing some staff. This was their one chance to find decent help with the care of their child, and Angeline would not see it mussed up.

Artemis, for his part, was taking the matter with all the seriousness he undertook the most stringent of his business ventures. This was in regards to his son, after all. _His son!_ The next generation of Fowls was a tiny, precious little thing. Artemis would have been delighted with a daughter, as well, of course, but to have a son! A little boy to carry the family name, and teach the business to…

Now it was just to find the staff to help bring him up well. He knew Angeline was looking for credentials in terms of childcare, looking more at the references. He himself was looking at credentials in terms of professionalism. Education was his main focus. The Fowls did not raise fools, an early education was key to a successful future.

Between him and Angeline, they were making steady progress through the applications. Little Arty was barely two days old, and was already looking at multiple staff of his own.

“I think I’m done with my stack,” Angeline said. “Switch?”

“One moment, my dear,” Artemis replied, jotting down a note on the paper in front of him.

He then reached over and grabbed the smaller stack of paperwork in front of him and held out to Angeline. She grabbed a small stack in front of her, and passed it into his open hand, taking the papers he offered.

Before starting to read through the new applications, Artemis stacked the discard piles from both sides of the table and put them off to the side. To deal with the amount of applications, each had taken half, and gone through them. If either didn’t like the applicant, they were put in the discard pile. The small stacks left were ones the original sorter thought would be a good fit, now going to the other parent for their opinion.

The process repeated, with Angeline and Artemis both discarding or keeping applicants as they saw fit. Both were hoping to have a final pool by the end of the day; Artemis Fowl the Second was set to be set home in a day and a half, and the goal was to have staff in place for then.

Artemis’s assistant came in periodically to bring in coffee and some food, but for the most part, the new parents were left alone with just the baby, who was astonishingly well behaved for a new infant. He only cried twice, and the nurses at the hospital were always right there to help with determining his needs.

By the end of the day, Angeline had seven total applications in front of her, and Artemis had six. Eight were for wet nurses, four for nannies, and one for a dry nurse.

“Well, that answers that one question rather easily,” Angeline commented, after reviewing the new piles.

“As long as Buck or Butler don’t have any security concerns.”

Angeline laughed. And ran her hand over the baby’s soft head. So tiny, and already he had hair! Dark hair, too, just his father. Smiling down at him, she said “Who would want to harm such a sweet little darling?”

Artemis smiled at his family, and stood up to cuddle his wife and son.

“Here’s hoping no one.” With that, he took that baby out of his wife’s arms, and carefully tucked him into the crook of his elbow. Little Arty slept on peacefully. Artemis Fowl, now Artemis Fowl the First, took the proposed applications in his other hand and walked to the door, where he paused, unsure how to adjust his grip on anything to actually open it. He heard Angeline chuckle behind him, and she walked over to get the door for all of them.

Stepping into the hallway, Artemis handed the paperwork to the hulking man standing off to the side of the door. “Here’s the list; please do the security check as soon as you can. We’d like the staff to be settled before we take Artemis home.”

“Of course sir,” Butler said. He’d like a lot more than a day for full security clearance checks, but oh well. Never argue with the Principle, or in this case, his parents. Watching the trio go back to the nursery portion of the hospital suite, he entered the office area and booted up his computer. Time to get to actual work, rather than just standing by a doorway.


	9. Nine Ladies Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh, these chapters get kind of hard to keep topical to the line of the song as it goes on....ah well. The trailers make it look like the movie wanders about, so this fic can to.

“Oh, darling, you look marvelous! Did you really have little Artemis only four months ago?”  
“Well, closer to five, really, it is nearly the end of December!”  
Artemis, now known as Artemis Senior, casually put his arm around his wife’s waist, and offered her one of the champagne flutes in his other hand.  
“And you’ve looked marvelous the whole time,” he said, leaning in to kiss Angeline’s cheek.  
She smiled, and turned to her husband. It was the first large party they’d thrown since the baby had been born, and both were enjoying it thoroughly. Little Arty had handled it well, too; for a four-and-a-half month old, he was incredibly well behaved. And frightfully observant. Even the doctors had said he had quite a spark, and had already mastered some basic stepping stones such as clutching items to pull them closer to his face. Those he did have darling little hands, and the regular strength of an infant, so actually maintaining his grip was a bit of a challenge. But now it was well past his bedtime and the nanny had taken him off to be tucked in. His parents had followed briefly, and it was from this quick excursion to read his son a bedtime story before returning to the Christmas party.  
It was a much smaller affair this year than in others. Though “smaller” might have been a misnomer. With still upwards of one hundred guests, the dining hall and ballroom were still comfortably full.  
“Oh, a stepdance tune! Maggie, Ana, lets dance!” Angeline said, bubbling over in excitement. Handing her glass of sparkling juice (while breastfeeding, she still refused to drink alcohol) to her husband, she grabbed her school friends hands and pulled them towards the dance floor.  
Laughing, the three ladies lined up a row, and hoisted their long skirts in their hands a bit to keep the hems free of their shoes. A handful of other women joined in as well, with varying degrees of skill. Soon, there were about two dozen women dancing to a lively reel, with no regard to proper decorum. Angeline was doing for fun, and to get back into some regular exercise after having a baby, the others were doing it for fun as well, though theirs was based more on tipsy decision making rather than a logical decision to improve fitness.  
At the end of the song, all the women were breathless. The rest of the party guests applauded the impromptu performance, and a handful of more adventurous (or drunk) guests wolf whistled at the sight of gorgeous women flushed and panting. Everyone was in fine spirits though, and no one took offense. Some of the more outgoing women called back to their admirers, making somewhat interesting suggestions, given the class of attendees at the party. Artemis considered being offended, after all, they were aristocrats, and in his home, but he caught sight of his wife’s smiling face and decided to let it go. No point ruining the first Christmas with his family because of some unnecessary comments.  
Angeline shook her dress out and walked back to him. Taking her glass from him again, she downed it quickly, and looked around for a waiter to collect it now it was empty.  
Compliments then followed, as it seemed everyone wanted to congratulate the lady of the house on a fine performance, or more accurately, use that as a chance to speak to her and her husband directly. It wouldn’t do to be lapse in manners, after all, not when the Fowls were one of the most prestigious families around. Being invited at all was a major point of pride for many attendees, and they were all determined to make the most of it.  
Angeline, however, was delighted at the compliments. Maggie and Ana, her school friends, were as well. It was much more like the lives they’d had before marriage and families, just the girls going out dancing. They’d progressed rather far on their team back in their college days, the sycophants learned, as the women gushed about past performances.  
It wasn’t terribly surprising then, when one partygoer suggested a dance competition of the women present. Perhaps not right now, give them all a chance to catch their breath, but with that many fine, beautiful women in the room willing to dance, why not?  
Angeline was delighted with the idea. Maggie and Ana as well. Artemis thought it was swell, and decided on a whim to offer a cash prize to the best dancer. Word spread. It was agreed that in an hours time, all those ladies who wanted to participate could, and the band was told to prepare accordingly.  
At the designated start time, the initial twenty four women lined up and the musicians began to play. Skirts were hitched, and feet flew. Elimination occurred as someone missed a step, or lost rhythm, or fell over from the alcohol and lack of balance.  
The women were given a break between songs to breath and have something to drink. Thirteen ladies stepped into place and began the second dance. By this point, a ring of onlookers had formed, and everyone was clapping in time with the beat.  
Angeline was having the time of her life. Laughing and wildly dancing with her friends, she looked around the room at the onlookers. As the song ended, nine competitors were left. Angeline stepped out of the circle towards the nanny who had been standing off to the side since the middle of the dance.  
“Apologies, ma’am, but little Artemis seems hungry,” she said.  
“Oh! Oh, of course, it’s been hours! And the little man is only four months old…thank you, Theresa, I’ll be right up!”  
Angeline hurried over to the crowd and announced “Terribly sorry, everyone, but my darling boy apparently needs something to eat. He can be a bit fussy, so not sure when I’ll be back, but best of luck to everyone!” The guests all assured her it was fine, and her husband was one o the most vocal, saying of course she should go, so off she went.  
When she got to the nursery, Butler, her son’s bodyguard, was rather awkwardly rocking the cradle where baby Artemis was quietly whimpering. Angeline got the impression that handling infants was not something he had done regularly before, so it was with a bit of a laugh that she said “It’s alright, you can step away now, I’ll take him.”  
“Thank you, ma’am,” he rumbled, before stepping outside and room and closing the door. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”  
Scooping up her son, Angeline began cooking to him, the usual things mothers say to their babies. “Hush now, my darling, it’s alright, you’re alright now. Mummy’s here. I’ve got you, Mummy’s got you…”  
Settling into the rocking chair, she quietly began to sing the first song that came into her head, which, given the season, was obviously a Christmas carol. Keeping a steady rhythm of song, she rocked her son, fed him, burped him, and cuddled him. Bing the easy child he was, she wasn’t at all surprised to have him tucked back into the cradle, fast asleep, before she finished singing about nine ladies dancing.


End file.
